


Toys

by leogrl19



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 13:27:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leogrl19/pseuds/leogrl19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabela has an itch...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toys

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KalenCaelli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KalenCaelli/gifts).



> OHMAHGLOB -- I almost forgot I'd written this. My bud, KalenCaelli, guilted me into doing it for her with her wily, wily ways, and I'm sure she won't mind me sharing it after all this time (she's a giver). Just to sweeten the pot, this has NEVER BEEN POSTED ANYWHERE BUT HERE. Lucky you, hm? ;)

* * *

 

Isabela had an  _itch_. 

The stubborn sort that happened to linger…The sheer force of her infamous will simply not up to task in sending it away. 

Not until it was  _sated_ ; its every need utterly  _exhausted_  by a good… ** _scratch_**. A scratch, she found, she only wanted from a certain  _someone_ … 

 **Soon** – 

 _Repeatedly_ …  

With a  _large_ ,  **phallic**  tuber.

That the troublesome itch rested between her legs was the very portrait of  _coincidence_ ….  

The pirate smirked, a finger swirling the rim of her drained mug as she eyed her prey, the other woman scooting onto the wooden bar of the seedy tavern, an easy grin on her lips as she conversed with three sailors. Leaning forward, she looked every bit the well-to-do noble: a tailored jacket with fine embroidery was held by a smooth, leather sash that cinched her waist, the crisp shirt that lied beneath secured solely by two metal clasps. Immaculate cloth pants draped her lower half, the snug fabric all but having the fit of a second skin. 

Now, while she could never approve the use of pants in…any practical application, really – she  _would_  admit the subtle stripe that trailed their sides made those luscious legs appear even  _longer_ …. So –  ** _absolutely_**  – credit where due: the other woman knew  _exactly_  what to wear and  _exactly_  what it accentuated; she crossed a leg, the hand moving to stroke its thigh causing all three men to predictably shuffle closer. 

A shame not one of them would find any true release…

Not with Hawke. 

Not tonight. 

Perhaps she’d find them later and make it up to them. Men who smelled of brine and sea – of  _sweat_  and  **wood**  – were always welcome in her bed…And a good, old fashioned foursome would put a smile on  _anyone’s_  face.

Another smirk; her fingers fell from the greasy mug as she rose from her seat, hips taking their natural sway as she made her approach. They had played this little game before: having fun with others – flirting, touching –  _more_ , if it would give a good show and gain the other’s attention…Until whoever watched had no choice  **but**  to  _act_.

Isabela weaved through the sailors, the men squawking their offense as she pressed against Hawke’s knees, reaching forward to steal her wrist; brushing digits teased the sensitive flesh – feeling the pulse there flutter – nails tracing lazy designs as she furled up her sleeve. 

Their eyes met. 

A grin welcomed her smirk.

The pirate’s grip suddenly tightened, bringing the captured limb to her lips – leaving mere inches as she breathed along the taunt flesh…tilting her chin to drag her stud along its length. 

Hawke’s lips parted, brown orbs darkening in a telltale way.

Isabela plucked her from her wooden perch, away from the men, feeling the heat of the other’s gaze as she led her up the stairs and to her room. Saying nothing.

Words were boring. Words were  _unnecessary_. With what she did now, the other understood  ** _completely_**. 

A sharp tug, and they were both inside, Isabela using the flat of her boot to slam the door shut, crushing her captive’s body against the unyielding surface soon after. 

She brushed hair and cloth aside, pressing her mouth into the delicate curve of Hawke’s neck – smiling when she heard a hitch in the other’s breathing. “That was  _quite_ –” another, “quite the introduction…Though, I doubt those sailors would agree…” the rogue’s hand found her arm, roaming digits sending goosebumps wherever they touched. “Tell me – was that pirate bravado, on your part? Or am I simply here,” an  _insistent_  pressure, “because of my winsome personality?” 

The pirate chuckled against her skin, trailing up to nip an ear. “I wanted to show you something…”

“Oh?” Humor tinted her tone. “Is this a big something or a little something?” 

Isabela withdrew –  _delighted_  – the corner of her lip curling.

Hawke shifted, expression mirroring her own as she stole a kiss, sucking and biting in her electric way before detaching as well, a dark gleam to her eyes. “ _That_ ,” their lips brushed, the scent of whiskey and ale mingling between them, “is a very  _fun_  expression…” the rogue’s free hand found the small of her back, “Will I be screaming tonight, Bela?” 

She exhaled from the rasp – the pure  ** _heat_**  – of those words, the most delicious shiver running the length of her spine. “We both will, sweet thing.” A nail followed the slender curve of the tattoo on her cheek…before stripping her of her leather sash with one, swift tug; the front of her jacket fell open. “I’ll make  _sure_  of it…” The slow grin that spread on the other’s lips made her want to taste them again – so, she did: deep, measured strokes a promise of  _more_ …Until she slipped away with a wink, turning to make her way to her dresser. “Have you done your reading?”

“Do you mean Anders’ charming manifesto?” Isabela heard the other woman wander behind her, the worn floorboards groaning beneath her weight. “Sadly, that ended in the fire. Funny how it keeps happening…”

Another chuckle. “No, silly – the book  _I_  left you.” A backward glance. “At your estate.”

“On my bed…?” She tracked Hawke’s steady approach out of the corner of her eye, looking away only to wrap her fingers around the crooked handle of a drawer. “A rather large note attached,” twin hands snaked her waist, teasing the wrap there, “possessing several crude drawings, of what I assumed to be us, testing a variety of phallic shaped objects?” The rogue’s voice dropped an octave, the tip of her fingers grazing the exposed skin of her thigh. “I might have thumbed through it…”

A sigh left her lips, enjoying the tit for tat – how the other always  _gave_  as good as she  _got_. “Then you know what I want?” She leaned into Hawke, pulling the drawer forward with the action. “Why you’re here?” 

“I knew what I hoped for…” she could  _hear_ the smug grin.

“Then let me be clear.” The pirate apprehended smooth, leather straps, removing the captured toy from its boxed confines. “I want you to fuck me.” She spun in her grasp. “With  _this_.” The strap-on she…relieved from the Blooming Rose was presented in all its glory, the other’s eyes taking in its length only to come back… _hungry_ ; she felt another fierce stab of arousal. “I’ve had such an  _itch_ …” her hands found their way under her jacket, shrugging it off her shoulders, “I need you to take care of it.”

Hawke released her hold, letting the jacket fall to the floor. “You don’t want a man for this?” The amused expression on her face clearly showed she spoke of insecurities she did not feel. “There’s a chance I could be just  _terrible_.”

Isabela laughed – because the idea was so very  _laughable_ ; she tugged on the other’s collar, digits dipping to undo the tucked shirt’s clasps. “You want me to tell you how good you already know you are?” 

“It couldn’t hurt…”

A smirk: she’d stroke that ego, if only to get to the part where she could stroke  _her_. “The last man I happened to cross swords with yielded before I even got started…” the last clasp was released, glimpses of smooth, caramel skin and the dark fabric of her smallclothes revealed through a slender slit, “It left me…” a hand slipped inside, “ _unsatisfied_.” She felt the muscles there twitch and shudder. “What I need, is a sure thing…” their eyes met, her fingers tucking under the hem of her pants, “Tonight, I need  _you_ …”

Hawke licked her lips, nibbling its bottom half with an effortless sensuality. “Do you know what I told those sailors?” The rogue’s hand found her wrap again, making quick work of its knot before carelessly tossing it away. “That I was such a  _bored_  noble – tired of Hightown, tired of those living there.” A nail snagged every cord of her corset. “Tired of  _virgins_ …That I was  _entitled_  – to something  _more…_ ” the end tie was drawn sharply, and she couldn’t stop the gasp from the sudden  _tightness_  – until the fabric gave and fell, “A shameless sort of pleasure.” The other purposely eyed the toy she held again…before jutting her hips. “ _Put it on_ ….”

Isabela swallowed thickly.

Words were boring. Unnecessary. 

Unless they were  _Hawke’s_.

Because, Andraste’s sanctified  _ass_ , those made her so  ** _wet_** … 

The pirate wasted no time releasing the restraints of her pants, taking a personal sort of satisfaction in peeling the tight fabric down, as she kneeled, and liberating those endless, perfectly toned legs from their cloth prison. Her smallclothes were next, fingers hooking to slide them down at, what she was sure, an agonizingly slow pace – pleased to see she wasn’t the only one hopelessly turned on.

She smirked, not being able to help trailing kisses up Hawke’s thigh, tasting her arousal with slow, ardent licks…

“Isabela…” a warning; a shiver. 

Her expression grew before she eventually relented, “Spoilsport.” 

The pirate secured one of the leather straps around her waist, fastening the other two around each of her thighs, making sure, while gauging the toy’s solidity, to brush her fingertips against as much of the other’s delectable skin as she could. Leaning back slightly to admire her handiwork, Isabela felt her own exquisite tremor, a  ** _throb_**  so immediate in its response to the attached phallus that it was almost painful.

The  _incredible_  body,

That  _confident_  gaze–

No man had  _ever_  made her  ** _ache_**  as the woman in front of her did now.

“Well, don’t keep us in suspense…” a breathless chuckle, the rogue’s voice as languid as her finger’s pace and as thick as the new addition it trailed, “How is it?” 

“ _Mm_ …” instinct had her shooing the other’s hand away before wrapping her own around the erect member – because if she didn’t have some sort of physical contact with the toy,  ** _soon_** , she was sure she would  _burst_  – gripping its girth with a practiced touch, “ _Glorious_ …” she began to stroke her, “ _Far_  better than I  _imagined_ ….” 

Hawke flashed a grin, obviously pleased with her answer, the pirate catching the new weight of her breaths, how they were suddenly  _faster_. “I could say the same. You’re…” a stilted breath, “fairly good at this…”

Her brow rose, nails scaling up her torso. “Only ‘fairly’?”

“For now….” 

Isabela smirked: she’d take that challenge. She continued her ministrations at a slower pace, adding a spin to her hand as she stroked – drawing out each deliberate caress until reaching the base of the toy, nudging it only inches until the tips of her fingers reached wetness. 

The spike in the other’s breathing was expected, but the pirate took a not-so-secret pleasure in watching Hawke’s entire body curl inward, delicious ripples dancing along her abs….   

“ _Dirty cheat_ …” 

She laughed, eliciting another low rumble of agony with her hand. “Not if you enjoy it, sweet thing.” 

A hard jerk and the rogue’s hips jutted forward again, the clumsy insistence of the phallus toward her face, oh-so  _telling_.

“Excited?” She didn’t stop.

The other woman indicated the stiff toy. “Can’t you tell?”

They shared grins.

“I have my ways…”

Hawke purred in agreement, biting her lip. “You were so eager before…To use your mouth…” a hand tangled in her chestnut hair, tossing it back to fully reveal her intricate tattoo, the defined line of her jaw, “Your  _tongue_ …” brown orbs flashed darkly, pinning her with a look, “How about now?”

Isabela licked her lips. Oh, she did  ** _love it_  **when the other woman was  _subtle_.

And since she was already on her knees… 

A swift tug of the toy, unambiguous in its intent.  

She would give Hawke a  _show_. 

Her thumb circled the head of the shaft, once –  _twice_ , the digit slipping to brush its underside as she planted kisses up its length – occasionally using her tongue – before decidedly engulfing the object, hand stroking its base still.

The ragged breaths above her made the pirate even more assertive while the other’s fingers gripped the back of her head, fumbling to untie the knot of her scarf.

A drawn out sigh. “You have  _no idea_ …” the fabric slipped away, the rogue’s hand writhing through her hair, “ _what this is doing to me_ …”

Isabela cooed. 

Those  _wonderful_   **words** …

She pulled away, locking eyes with the other woman when her mouth separated, only to take it a second time, conquering the phallus, inch by inch, until her lips brushed Hawke’s hot skin. 

“ _Sweet Maker, Isabela_ …”  ** _throaty_** ; the other’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly –  _staring_.

The pirate slowly trailed back up, satisfied, releasing the toy with an audible pop. “If it wasn’t clear before, Hightown…” she licked the attachment, “ _I’m_ ,” again, “ _no_ ,” a swirl of her tongue, “ _virgin_.” 

“No.” The lazy incline of the rogue’s lips only reminded her of the mounting ache between her own legs – a reward, no doubt – for furthering her role. “You’re what I expected…” her fingers left her hair, finding their way under her chin. “What I  _deserve_.” It was a gentle touch, the other urging her to stand, yet insistent enough to convey an unmistakable need. “I want these off,” her hand grazed her hip, a finger plucking the thin strip of cloth there, “and then I want you to kiss me.”

Isabela complied – would have even if Hawke  _hadn’t_  requested it – slipping off her utterly soaked smallclothes before capturing those swollen puffs of flesh; a tongue parted her lips, the other holding her own captive, suckling and biting until she squirmed, desperate to feel more of the stiff phallus rubbing against her. The rogue smiled into their kiss, pressing deeper – biting  _harder_  – as her hands slid away from her body to remove her shirt.

She quickly halted them, chuckling from the other’s raised brow. “Don’t I get a favor in all this?” The pirate winked, releasing her hands to remove a slender dagger yet to be discovered, “I’d like you to keep  _this_ ” she teased the collar, “on…Without–” the blade cleanly halved the fabric that restrained her breasts, “ _that_.” She ran the blade beneath the opened shirt. “It makes for… _such_  a  _pretty_  picture…”

Her expression grew, catching the rising swell of the other’s chest – the unreadable expression – hardened nipples barely covered by delicate cloth, “That brasserie cost a small fortune.” 

“You care?” The dagger was tossed away. 

“No.” A grin that told her something  _exciting_ was about to happen. “You’ll be repaying me soon enough…” Hawke whipped her around, a fierce grip on either side of her hips as she forced their bodies together, positioning the phallus at the juncture of her thighs to slowly –  _torturously_  – stroke back and forth; the air in her throat caught. “ _Mm_ …Look at you,” her fingers joined the toy, “you’re practically  _dripping_ …” she shivered against the rogue, widening the gap between her legs – only to receive the same,  ** _maddening_**  pace, “How long have you wanted this,  _hm_?” A hand dragged up her stomach, cupping a breast. “Did you fantasize about it? Touch yourself to it?  _Dream_  of it – of  _me_?” Hawke continued to slide against her. “ _Talk to me, Bela…_ ”

Isabela bit her lip, arching her back– 

 _Yes_.

When she wasn't thinking of her next drink, or her latest, victimless enterprise, or that damned relic and the hidden knife just waiting for a chance at her vitals –  _Maker_ ,  ** _yes_**  – she was thinking of Hawke. Hawke and the next time she would hold her down and fuck her; Hawke and how often she wanted the woman so badly she could hardly stand it; Hawke and the particular way she could make her  _scream_.

Not that she would just  **admit**  those things. Not that she was even sure she  _could_. 

Instead, the pirate moaned – loudly – because that was  _always_  an acceptable answer. Acceptable when everything else was too…

 _Intimate_.

Hawke leaned into her, “I’ve been thinking about this…” she stiffened, the confession hot and heavy against her ear, “ _Incessantly_ …From the moment I read your book, I wanted to be inside you…” fingers brushed her slick folds, “ _I can’t_   _wait_   _to be inside you_ …”

And, suddenly, she was glad the other woman was behind her – supporting her – there a distinct possibility her legs would give out any moment.

“Please…” her voice shook with need, and –  _shit_  and  _balls_  – she was actually  ** _begging_** …But the mounting ache between her legs had long reached its boiling point and she needed  _something_  to give – because Hawke…Hawke was  _so_   _close_ – 

So.  _damned._   ** _close_** …

The rogue released her: Isabela nearly whimpered from the sudden loss of the toy and her hands as she watched the other woman make her way to her bed, only to sit on its end so casually, one would think she’d invited her up for a drink and a chat. And she would have been simply  _furious_  – had Hawke not deliberately spread her legs to readjust the glistening shaft of the phallus, only to look up at her expectantly, a simple tap of wet fingers against her thigh. 

Another thrill wreaked its havoc along her spine at the implication alone. 

And pride was so very  _overrated_ … 

She made her way to her, their eyes making all the promises their mouths couldn’t be bothered with; the pirate used Hawke’s shoulders for leverage, positioning herself over the other woman as strong hands held her waist, their bodies sliding into place until they were just  _right_. Isabela sighed, feeling the hard tip tease her entrance, hungrily capturing the rogue’s lips – before letting the toy fill her in one go. 

They moaned into each other’s mouths, the pirate parting only to breathe her pleasure from the  _fullness_  of the penetration – because she was so  ** _tense_** , clinging to every  _glorious_  inch inside her, yet so damned  ** _ready_** , she received the sizable toy without a hitch. She took her pace, wrapping her arms around Hawke’s neck, fingers playing with the hidden skin past her collar as she closed her eyes.

 ** _Yes_** – 

Like this – just like  _this_  – it  **exactly**  what she’d been looking for. A mindless fuck; a game of  _take_  – each merely a means to an end. Again and again. Like the tools that they were.

It  **didn’t**  have to be  _more_  than that.

“What do you think you’re doing?” A growl –  _harsh_  – nails digging into her skin.

Her eyes snapped open. “Wha-”

Hawke seized her hips, forcing her down in time with her upward thrust; Isabela cried out, gasping. “ _I’m_.” Again. “ _In_.” A third time. “ _Control_.” Her brown orbs were as unrelenting as her actions. “And I don’t believe I gave permission for  _you_  to use  _me_.” 

“Y-you–” she struggled through the assault – panting, because,  ** _dammit_** , it was as equally  _sexy_  as it was  _affronting_ , “absolute  _bastard_ …” the pirate pressed closer, moans competing with the repeated slaps of their colliding skin, “ _Oh, again_ …”

The cord that lied between her breasts was yanked loose with the other’s teeth, her breasts spilling from the tunic, its top slipping past her shoulders. “You like that?”

“ _Yes_ …” despite the fact that it was rapidly becoming apparent she  _wasn’t_  on top – not really – not when it was so damned clear who held the upper hand; Hawke’s grip slipped, cupping the mounds of her ass for even more maneuverability, “ _Fuck me_ …”

Isabela caught the broad grin right before her eyes rolled to the back of her head; the other woman slammed into her, over and over and over –  _fast_  – until she thought she would literally  _shatter_ from the pure gloriousness of it all – and then,  ** _slow_** …Her entire body arching against her – against that  _fantastic_ ** _control_** –  only to be pulled back down to feel everything Hawke could  _give_ …

Lips brushed hers, “You’re  _beautiful_ …”

Her breath hitched.

 _What_?

The pirate wrenched her eyes open again, only to catch those auburn orbs staring back at her, unapologetic and intense.

 _Primal_ –  

And, shit,  _shit_  –  ** _shit_** , she was going to… 

Isabela screamed, writhing –  _moaning_  – against Hawke as nails dug mercilessly into her back, body a vice around the phallus inside her as the warm, wet agony finally came to its explosive end, and all she was left with was  _excruciating_   ** _pleasure_** …. 

She licked her lips as she came down, regaining her vision, catching her breath – eventually noticing the slight dip of the other’s brows, the longer blinks…She ground hard against her. 

A strangled moan. 

The pirate smirked, regarding her knowingly. “Have you been holding out on me?” 

Gaile grinned back: shakily, guiltily. “What can I say?” She swallowed noticeably, helplessly jerking upward when she suddenly flexed her inner walls. “I’m the perfect gentleman.” 

“I’d rather have you screaming.” Isabela pushed her backward, grinding their hips together again the moment her back hit the old mattress; she enjoyed the loud moan she managed to rip from her – the complete shift in their roles. “You never did tell me how it feels…” another moan, the toy pushing a little deeper when she did. “ _To be inside me_.”

“Different…” her eyelids fluttered, “ _Wonderful_ …” the rogue laughed – breathless and honest, “Like it  _won’t_   _take_   _much_ …”

She leaned down, draping herself against the other woman to capture her lips, alternating between teeth and tongue. “Haw-ke…” what had only took one breath now required two – because suddenly – she was feeling  _it_  as well, breaths already tinted with passion, “I want you inside me until you come.” 

The order was electric, a pardon to  _let_ go _,_ as Gaile’s hands found her body, moving to fuck her once more – sloppy, frantic thrusts that spoke only of  _need_  – until Isabela felt the start of another swell within, the thick, golden feeling larger –  _slower_ , than the last; a steadily creeping black at the corners of her vision.

“ _Don’t…Stop_ …” 

And somehow, the other woman must have known, because she thrust into her even harder, desperate for her own release – desperate for  _hers_  – until Gaile gave her the scream that she  _needed_ , moaning –  _panting_  – her name. 

As a curtesy, right before everything became blissfully irrelevant, Isabela made sure to return the favor.


End file.
